The Storm

Cindy RoadiferDTC354September 20, 2015

He could not recall a more perfect day to be

a father. The SUN was finally SHININGafter a long, dreary winter, and not even the scattered rain and dark clouds that were typical of a Northwest springtime day could dampen his mood.

reminded him of fond memories of his own childhood. For eight years he had waited for his son to start Little League baseball, for when he found out he was going to be a father, he celebrated by purchasing a baseball glove for his future son or daughter. Finally, the little boy with the beaming smile, was using the glove that had been lovingly bought and saved for this day.

disrupted their game of catch. He knew he had to protect his son

from the onslaught, so he grabbed him, ran and leaped into the

bushes for protection. Piercing screams came from the frightened

boy.

Suddenly, the sky darkened,

Lights flashed,

And a crashing

BOOM!!

Springtime weather in Iraq brought respite from

the piercing cold of winter and a “pre-relief” from the .

Springtime also brought days upon days of sandstorms that turned the sky into a hue of reddish-brown.

searing heat of summer

It was not unusual to hear gUnSHots and BLASTS from IEDs from behind the perimeter wall. Mortars and grenades

launched from the other side of the wall used to time alarm him, but as time ticked away on his deployment, so, too,

waned his nerves. The caution and and cooperation for the protocol of taking cover during incoming fire lasted only

until his first encounter with an IED. Thereafter, he seemed to enjoy tempting fate by ignoring the alarms to “duck and

cover.”

His relaxed attitude changed, however, when he ignored the “incoming” warnings and the yelling of his 1SG because he

was enjoying some downtime tossing a football with his much-younger PFC. He heard the rocket propelled grenade

launch but he did not see it coming. An earth-shaking explosion quickly followed the flash of light. He could not hear

anything immediately after crash, but through the dirt and smoke he could see the young PFC on the ground, writhing

and screaming as he reached for the source of his excruciating pain. Rushing blood and tattered pants were all that

remained of his lower leg and foot.

The rainwater falling onto his face,

and the cries of his son, jolted his mind and he realized he was in the shrubbery of the neighborhood park.

PTSD

Like a dark cloud

Followed him home from war

Moved in to his

household

Follows him

everywhere

I T H U R T S